


When you want things done your way, you gotta do 'em yourself

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [80]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: HYDRA Husbands, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 23:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20461316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Step 1 - Ignore what Brock's doing.Step 2 - Fail step 1.





	When you want things done your way, you gotta do 'em yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/gifts).

> This is so entirely me just saying I want you to write that certain scene you've mentioned from a fic draft you haven't posted yet but I cursed myself and read. Now I'm in this constant state of wanting them being this stupid and gay lol ;) ILU.

It all really did happen in a blink of an eye.

Brock follows him into the house as he usually does if he’s in the mood to hang out after a long day or when they come back from a mission. They usually have a few beers and just sit back on the couch to tune out the world with the TV as their white noise. 

Jack tries to focus on anything else in the room but Brock beside him, he really does. He tries to focus on the laptop's screen, propped up on the coffee table and facing them, on the woman with the perfect set of tits in the video that his best friend decided he was just bored enough to show him. Tries to focus on the feeling of his own hand pressing down against the front of his jeans, the friction of his slow aching movements making him believe it’s all from the movie before him.  


He tries not to notice anything distinctly next to him, of Brock and the way he spreads his thighs out against the couch, one pressed into Jack’s and every shift bleeds into his skin as does his heavy breathing or the sidelong glances he keeps casting in his direction, but attempts to hide. He tries to ignore the fact that Brock has spent more time staring at him than watching the action happening that he’s the one responsible for bringing up.

He tries not to notice the fact that Brock’s already had his dick out for a couple of minutes, is already working it hard and fast, efficient and straight to the point to get the job done and over with, just like he did on the field. Jack’s said it a few times, once cajoled to in a haze of booze and loose-talking agents, there’s a method to jerking off for him and should be a thing that others practise as well. Except that Brock never listens, goes to the beat of his own drum if he can get away with it, always has, and Jack isn’t in the mood to bring it up again. If his best friend wants to blow his load without harnessing the full potential of a mind blowing orgasm, then so be it.  


But then again, Jack’s not sure if he would ever get a chance like this again. Brock’s not overly drunk and neither is he, they’re still able to realize things and know what’s going on. They’ve never come close to anything like this before and he wonders if they ever will again. It was just that he wasn’t in the mood to just sit there bearing witness to Brock pawing at himself so he could cum quickly like a fucking teenager. There was a certain degree of tact involved in this, a degree of skill that Brock just couldn't seem to get the hang of.

Jack can't allow him to cum like that. He thinks it's absurd that a man Brock’s age can’t even masturbate properly, but then again he figures that's what he's there for, right? It’s his job, at work or outside of it, to get his best friend out of jams.

And since Jack knew Brock wouldn’t be able to focus on anything he said right then, (he _really_ can’t blame him at the moment) maybe a more hands-on approach is in order.   


Brock immediately frowns when Jack reaches out and smacks his hand away from his dick. Jack can practically hear the gears in Brock's brain starting up as it shifts and realizes he’s up to _something_, but he makes no move to stop him. At least there’s that.

Jack tries, _he really tries_, not to notice and memorize the hitch in Brock's breath as he slowly and tortuously drags a fingernail along the underside of his cock. He tries not to notice the way the tip of Brock’s tongue swipes across to moisten the bottom of his lip or the way he bites those same lips when Jack gives him a little squeeze, or the low-pitched whine building in his throat. He tries to approach this as if he were simply trying to teach his CO something beneficial, something that he’d be thankful about later, when he was enjoying this alone in the privacy of his own home. This is only for Brock's gain, Jack reminds himself, all the while his free hand finds the fly of his jeans on its own and finally frees his aching cock.

The video is still going in the background, the strained tinny sound of the girl's feigned cries of apparent heightened pleasure travelling from the laptop's speakers and through the air around them. But Jack no longer hears it, can no longer be even bothered to care. Instead he listens and even watches Brock's breathing accelerate, stares into his half-lidded gaze as he takes him firmly, slides his fist along every inch of his length and swipes his thumb across the head with careful practised precision.

Jack pretends he doesn't hear the softly moaned _Jack_ that falls from Brock's lips. Pretends it doesn't make his heart rate increase, pretends it isn't what's compelling him on as he begins to fuck his own hand. Pretends it isn't the reason he's leaning closer in now, placing kisses along Brock's jawline and sucking vicious little marks into his neck as a reminder of tonight. Pretends it isn't why he's stroking him in earnest now, that he’s given up teaching a slow buildup because he’s greedy for something more, his hand a blur as he builds up a quick rhythm.

He tries to ignore the deep, all-consuming satisfaction that washes over him as he watches Brock come apart right before his eyes. Resists the urge to whisper _sweetheart_, or _you look so fucking good like this_, into Brock's ear just as he begins to get louder, more frantic until finally Jack feels him spill into his hand. This is all for Brock's benefit, he reminds himself again as he tries to ignore the force of his own orgasm overtaking him, tries to ignore that it's the best one he's ever had, and all too easily hopes this is only the beginning of many firsts between them. 


End file.
